The was a challenge that was never fulfilled, is being reworked, and that I intend to finish. All I wish for is luck and some motivation.
Title: Domestic
Author: Ileana A. (babygray)
Main Pairing: Duo/Heero
Disclaimer: Gundam Wing is not mine. This is pure jest.
Notes: This is a 26-part story, made up of noisefics/drabbles/whatever. It's not chronological, but don't worry too much about that. Reworked, but rough and un-beta'ed. Also, this is the last part I wrote back when I first began to explore this idea. I'm not certain how long it will take to write the next parts, but I hope you've enjoyed this so far.
--Nada--
There's something disquieting in watching Duo sleep after sex. After he comes inside me, after I wipe away with some tissues the wet stickiness that threatens to keep me joined to him by the hips. After he pulls out and wraps his arms around me to keep me close throughout the night, a strange feeling envelopes me.
As his breaths float against the back of my neck, my hands wrap themselves around his and my mind doesn't stop churning.
Perhaps it's a flaw of mine, this feeling within me that, as soon as the wetness dries up, as soon as the dark, delicious night fades away, and the harsh daylight returns, he will disappear. That, one day too soon, he will evaporate with the wetness into the air.
Perhaps I watch too much Jerry Springer, and all his talk of the true temporary condition of relationships is starting to get to me.
I want nothing more than for Duo to stay with me, until the day we stop living, and even then...
I would turn onto my other side and look at Duo's face, almost desperately, as I try to find cause for my sadness in the lines on his face. We're both young, I tell myself, and it's very likely that we will ultimately grow apart. It's the inevitability of it that makes me feel so. There, in the shadow under his eyes, or perhaps in the fall of his hair...
As I think this, as I search his face, this face that I treasure, his eyes would open slowly, like that of a tired, content cat, and he would wake me up out of my thoughts and draw me back into his night with a kiss, light and tender on my lips.
I love you, he would whisper in our native tongue, and I would tease in a sleepy voice if he had been listening to the colonist radio station again.
He would grin sleepily, his eyes closing, and I would feel that the night could last forever this way, with just him and me in the bed we bought together, in the room we painted together, in the home that we created together.
And my flaw becomes blanketed in the cool, white snow of his love, forgotten until the harsh daylight melts my belief in him away.